


To Love A Slave

by JuniperAdler



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: All the Smut, Ancient Rome, Gay, M/M, Sex Slave, Smut, alternative universe, gladiator, slave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperAdler/pseuds/JuniperAdler
Summary: Erwin Smith is a gladiator for house Marcellus. Recently purchased, he must become worthy of a wealthy ludus. But his eyes are set on the body slave of the dominus and will risk everything to set him free.But sometimes little birds don’t seek the freedom others think they need.Ancient Roman alternative universe with gladiators!
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 72
Kudos: 135





	1. Erwin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> This is a new story I’m working on. As always, my chapters are raw and unedited so don’t hold back!

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the man dressed in the dark green silks. Not an easy fabric to get your hands on and definitely not in the purchase range of the slave. He could see the leather collar around the man’s neck as he walked past, smelled the soft scent of rose water and sweat. He bent his head so far towards him he could almost count the stitches in the fabric - hasty but practiced.

  
A snap drew his head back to what he should have been paying attention to. Standing before him was the doctore of the ludus he had been bought by. He was a much older man with shaggy black hair and scars upon his older body and piercings that were decorative but doubtfully consenting. Many owners took great pleasure in creating the bodies of their dreams in the gladiators they owned and the doctore was not safe from it either.

  
At least he had clothes to cover himself from head to toe. Leather sandals adorned the feet that were now pacing in the white sand in front of him, soon to be stained red with the blood that would spill in training, and white robes that covered one shoulder in the traditional Roman fashion. Erwin was sure their owners enjoyed dressing him up like a Roman, treating him like a prized possession and showing him off. While a doctore trained the gladiators and had more freedom, they were retired from fighting and had no way to gain enough money to buy their freedom. In short, they would never become a free man again.

  
It was a choice that made many men fall on their blade during training.

  
“Today,” the man began speaking, a wooden rod in his right hand, his knuckles a stark white against the dark grain, “you become gladiators for one of the most successful houses in Rome. You now belong to house Marcellus. We are standing on land that has been bought with the blood, sweat and tears of those who have come before you.”

  
“And died,” muttered the man next to him. In all honesty, Erwin had forgotten he was standing next to other slaves; some of whom might not know the way of the world. While Erwin had been in these situations a few times before, someone else might be quick to speak out of turn without realising the potential consequences.

  
The doctore’s brown eyes swung over to the other man and Erwin stared straight ahead, not sharing allegiance with either man.

  
“What was that, slave?”

  
“I’m not a slave,” the man jutted his chin out. Erwin couldn’t help but take a peripheral glance at the person next to him. He looked like the greatest fool in the world. Brown hair that nearly covered his eyes and a surly expression: he clearly had no idea that he wasn’t about to escape the abuse that was coming.

  
The doctore’s eyes flashed with amusement and his lips curled up. He’d seen his first victim and wasn’t about to let it go. “Oh? Is there something else you would prefer to be called?”

  
“Eren,” the boy called back and Erwin grimaced. Why did they have to have such similar sounding names? At the first syllable he would be turning his head and he believed Eren’s name would be called a lot.

  
“Eren, my apologies,” the doctore mock bowed, putting his right leg forward to support his weight and letting his arms go wide to the side like a performer. Eren finally fell silent, most likely realising that this was the action of a snake about to strike. Flatter, entertain, and then latch on for dear life.

  
And so he did.

  
The doctore straightened up and brought his baton down on Eren, smashing into the side of his face. Eren stumbled and fell, into Erwin, but he sidestepped him and watched him tumble to the ground. As Eren was getting his face kicked in, Erwin took the moment to look up at the archway behind where the doctore had stood. A few slaves had gathered to look at the new gladiators. He could see the man in the green silk, his face set and stoic as he watched what had happened.  
With all his finery and good looks, he would have to be a body slave to the dominus, which was never a good thing. Those little rats would sniff around for trouble and report back immediately in order to receive gifts and adoration from their masters.

  
He met my eyes for a moment and Erwin knew his face reflected contempt. The body slave’s eyes drifted up and down his body before returning the gaze. Erwin’s eyes shuddered for a moment - not from horror, but interest in a slave that would look at a gladiators body so openly. Most were told not to stare and to remain silent. Erwin had a feeling this man would do neither.

  
The meeting ended with the new boy clutching onto his bleeding jaw and spitting out blood all the way to the water bucket. In fact, bucket was a kind way of looking at it. In reality it was more of a trough you would use to feed animals. Erwin grimaced when he saw dirt, spit and blood in the water that they were to all drink from. At least they had small wooden cups that they could use. At his last ludus, they were forced to drink from their hands or none at all. One gladiator was missing a hand (a lost cause but difficult to sell) and struggled to drink. Did anyone help him? No. He was an asshole rapist when he had two hands. Losing one hand that he’d used to hurt others was something he deserved.

  
Some preferred to have gladiators who were slaves due to criminal activity. They believed it would make their ludus look more daunting and difficult to beat. They bought that man in the hopes that people would be terrified. Instead, he was taught a lesson on the field to the roars of appreciative fans. Erwin only wished they would cheer that loudly to save an innocent slave’s life instead of baying for further blood.

  
Alas, life was not that kind here.

  
Erwin took a cup and took some of the water. The sun was already beating down on his skin and even though he had already tanned to a soft bronze due to all his work outside, he knew he would most likely burn under the sun here. There was no shade despite being the ludus of a wealthier family. Some liked to put up fabric to give them some relief while working, but it was not to be seen here. Erwin hoped it was some sort of initiation rather than a family that enjoyed watching their slaves struggle in the unforgiving heat.

  
He turned from the water bucket to look back into the archway, trying to catch a glimpse of any other body, but it looked like the show was over for now. Interest always quickly waned for new gladiators. They usually got a few quick appreciative glances for their bodies before being dismissed entirely.

  
Except for the body slave filled with contempt.

  
Erwin’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of him that he didn’t notice that Eren had come to stand with him. The body was trying to clean a cut on his face and Erwin only noticed when bloody water sloshed onto his bare feet. He didn’t own shoes anymore - not since his last dominus had to sell them when things were getting tough. He still had on the leather loincloth he would use when on the battlefield against other men.

  
“Watch it!” He spoke gruffly to the younger man, not wanting to get blood all over himself.

  
Erin grimaced, looking at their matching wet feet. “Apologies. I’m trying to rid this cut of any trapped earth.”

  
“Want my advice?” Erwin didn’t wait for a definitive answer. “Let it rot. If you die, at least you will be free.”

  
Silence met his answer. When he turned to look at the body, unable to help his curiosity, he saw that Eren was watching him with serious eyes. “Very well,” he murmured, putting down his glass. “If things are this bad, perhaps I shall take your advice.”

  
Erwin met his eyes for a brief moment before sighing. He might have given up hope a long time ago but he had no right to take it from such a young soul as this. “Let me see it.” He took the boy’s chin and turned it this way and that, inspecting the wounds. “They look fine. No dirt in them. Just make sure they don’t sweep up. If they have a medic here, you might get to see them early.”

  
“My thanks,” Eren bobbed his head down.

  
“Why do you speak like that?” At Eren’s obvious confusion, Erwin sighed. “So properly. Like you’re a Roman.”

  
Eren shook his shaggy hair to cover his face. “My parents were Gauls. They taught me how to be Roman so I would never...” He trailed off, his cheeks pink.

  
“So you would never end up here?” Erwin guessed the rest of his sentence. He didn’t wait for visual confirmation to know if he was correct. “No accent on you. I wouldn’t have thought you were from there.”

  
“And I intend to keep it that way,” Eren muttered. “I should never have spilled my secrets to you. You could ruin me.”

  
“Listen, I don’t care where you’re from. You just need to learn to be silent and do what your doctore tells you. It will save your life out in the arena. Considering your size, you will most likely be placed in team settings rather than one on one battles. You wouldn’t be much use for them dead.”

  
Eren tipped up his chin, looking ready to argue, before he deflated and simply nodded. Erwin knew no man wanted to hear he would only be used in pair fighting or that he couldn’t go up against another man in single combat, but Eren took it maturely. Maybe the man was finally figuring out how to stay alive.

  
He took another look at Eren’s two black eyes.

  
Or perhaps not.


	2. Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to another chappy! Today we’ll find out about Levi’s special job to the dominus and perhaps hear about another familiar person.  
> I really hope you enjoy.

New gladiators, he sneered to himself. New men who would be bursting with self importance and belief that they would be the next god of the arena. Men he would see cut down and destroyed.  
  
Over half of them would die in their first match, woefully unprepared and too excited to think properly. Their minds would be on the gold prize and the whores they’d be allowed to fuck if it all went their way. The only sword they’d be touching is the one between their ribs that would stop them breathing.

  
Levi stopped walking for a moment to bow his head as a Roman man walked by. He had been here to see Senator Marcellus to discuss the gladiators and the new place they would be fighting in. Levi didn’t know the name for it - it was too long for him to remember.

  
What he did remember was Marcellus telling him to see him after the meeting. Thankfully the gladiators hadn’t distracted him too much and he had been able to make it on time. He crossed over the small pool in the middle of the main room, the cold water splashing at his bare ankles and wetting the green fabrics a darker shade. No slave should be wearing these colours, but Marcellus liked to call him his ‘painted whore’ and enjoyed making a show of him at parties.

  
The Roman men would laugh about how he was dressed up like one of them while the women would praise him for dressing in a feminine manner. None of them cared that his cheeks were almost scarred red with the humiliation and that his skin itched from the cheapness and poor construction of the fabric. While they might be dyed a luxurious colour, they were still some of the easiest fabric to get their hands on. Levi didn’t know the word for the fabric either.

  
Levi didn’t know a lot of words, and his dominus liked it that way.

  
He waited at the archway to the next room, nothing but a piece of brown fabric used to cut this room off from his. It wasn’t long enough to reach the floor and he could see the shadow of the other man’s feet pacing back and forth.

  
Clearing his throat softly, he let Marcellus know he was there. Immediately, the fabric was torn back and he was staring into the dark brown eyes of Marcellus, so different from his own grey eyes. He remained silent, knowing he was not allowed to speak until his dominus did.

  
“My exotic beauty, come in,” he treated Levi tenderly, like a lover. But Levi knew better and when he took the other man’s hand it was gently so he could retreat like a wounded animal the second he could.

  
“Dominus,” Levi murmured, entering the room of Senator Marcellus. He glanced at the new vase he had acquired, most likely a gift from someone hoping to earn the man’s favour, and looked at the art on it. It was a white and blue vase with depictions of men fighting on it. Some were gouging the eyes out of a lion while others had turned their blades on one another.

  
Romans, Levi sneered to himself. His disdain for them was never spoken aloud, but he pretended he was confident enough to believe his own thoughts of them. In reality, his mind was still grateful to them for offering him a place to live after his mother died. His sister, Mikasa, was also in the ludus, serving in the kitchens and helping prepare food for the feasts they would have once a month.

  
His dominus seemed preoccupied, holding onto Levi’s hand while reading letters in front of him. It was safe to do so, considering Levi couldn’t read, but he wondered if it was always such a good idea.

  
“Have you seen the new gladiators?” His master asked suddenly.

  
Levi nearly jumped, but years of training schooled his features into one of indifference. “I have. We saw them arrive this morning.”

  
“What do you think?’

  
“I think you may have some promising candidates. One already had his face smacked by the doctore though.”

  
Senator Marcellus let out a short laugh, like the sound of a large dog barking. It wasn’t a noise one would consider safe or comforting. It was more like the noise of a dog before it hunts a rabbit down in cold blood.

  
“So we have a stand out man,” he dropped Levi’s hand and turned to lean against the table, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t unattractive by any means - he had a strong Roman nose and brown curling hair that still reached his temples despite his age. His eyes were like a fox, tilted up at the sides like he was always plotting. His lips were thin but firm, always looking like they were ready to laugh at a joke but the joke always turned out to be you. It was no mistake he had gone into politics and that he was thriving. Owning a ludus and gladiators while still trying to run a city would never be easy, but Marcellus managed it like he was born to it. And being born into the kind of wealth and privilege he was helped along as well.

  
Marcellus’ words struck a chord with Levi. The man who was beaten up wasn’t exactly a ‘stand out man’, but the one standing next to him was. He seemed to be made of muscle without it going over the top. Strong arms, a wiry neck and piercing eyes that said ‘I know how to kill you 1000 ways’. And yet, he had something warm and intelligent about him as well, as if he would happily retire this work and go on to be a goat farmer or something equally strange.

  
While he was thinking of the stranger who had captured his attention, and now his thoughts, Marcellus reached out and tugged on the pin that was holding Levi’s clothes together. It wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do - his dominus preferred easy access to things he considered his. It fell into a quick heap, the ends still cool and wet against his feet.

  
“Let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to better use, yes?”

  
Levi dropped to his knees gently, knowing the command through muscle memory. Marcellus pulled his robes back to reveal his semi-erect cock. The other man rarely got naked with him around, choosing only to do so with his wife. But it wasn’t something that bothered or offended Levi. Having that barrier of cloth in the way was a way to keep his mind from being convinced that the Roman man loved him or thought of him with any fondness.

  
He was just a painted whore for him, and would always continue to be so. As the man hammered into his mouth, causing Levi’s throat to swell slightly from the hits to it and his eyes to leak from the discomfort, he thought again about the man he’d seen outside and the interest he’d seen there. It was less of an ‘interesting toy’ look and a little bit more suspicious, like he was expected to be intelligent. That was a new feeling for him.

  
What wasn’t a new feeling was his dominus groaning after a couple of dull minutes before releasing into his mouth. As his dominus slid free with a sigh of contentment, Levi swallowed quickly and stood, not wiping his face. Marcellus looked at him, satisfied to see Levi’s face was a mess, and flicked his hand as a motion to leave.

  
Levi dutifully picked up his robe, fastening it with practiced ease, and left the room quickly. Once outside, he took to running his hands over his face to remove the evidence of what had just happened. Saliva, tears and seed all came away in a wet mess and he rubbed his hands together an an effort to make it dry and disappear faster.

  
It was only noon and he knew his sister would need help in the kitchen so he hastened towards it, avoiding eye contact with the other slaves. While technically he might hold a higher position, deep down they all knew what an embarrassment it was to do his job.

  
“Levi!” His sister nearly ran into him carrying several jugs of wine.

  
“Mikasa,” he nodded, immediately reaching out to steady her and take some of the weight from her arms. “What are you doing?”

  
“Preparing for the feast tonight,” she was panting slightly and her black hair was pulled from her face using a scrap piece of brown fabric - most likely pulled from an old sack.

  
Levi blinked in surprise. Normally he would know of any feast or party, especially considering he was usually expected to participate and entertain guests. “A feast?”

  
“To show off the new gladiators,” she practically jogged all the way to the kitchen and Levi hastened to follow her. “The domina just told us about it. It’s a way to show we have new blood and perhaps auction a few unfortunates off if they would be better slave material elsewhere.”

  
It wasn’t her fault. Mikasa was someone who saw slavery as something that’s normal and expected. She never knew the way it stung when Mikasa would call them ‘material’ or ‘unfortunates’, especially when many of those sold slaves would go on to either be a body slave or killed. She belittled the job he was forced to do without realising what she was doing because she never associated him with it. To her, she was just his brother. To everyone else, he was a sex slave. She rarely connected the two and he didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want to or because she had never really thought about it before.

  
“You need help?”

  
“Always, big brother,” she put the jugs on a table and ruffled his hair. Would she still do that if she knew the dominus had been gripping it moments ago, aggressive enough to almost pull out chunks of it? “If you could start sorting the fish and choose the biggest ones, we can start from there.”

  
Levi grimaced but went over to the barrel of fish. Not only would his hands smell, but it was pointless work. All the fish in the barrel would be safe to eat, but they simply wanted to impress their guests. The whole ‘look at me I have the biggest fish in Rome’ attempt.

  
He uttered a silent prayer to the gods to make sure he didn’t smell later and dove in.


	3. Erwin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will be a little shorter because the next one is going to be a doozy!

He stank of fish as he walked by this time. The strange man who was now wearing yellow fabric that lightly brushed his hairless calves and hair brushed back to reveal his startling grey eyes smelled like fish.

  
Erwin was currently on display in the domus owned by his new dominus. He believed they were in the atrium, a way to not only show them off but also their vast wealth to have such a pointless room with a water feature in the centre.

  
He knew better than to fidget as the Romans drifted among them, commenting on their ‘barbaric muscles’ and ‘aggressive stances’. It was interesting to him how they designed their slaves a certain way and then acted surprised by how their bodies turned out.

  
There was a small orgy happening in the corner, with several Romans and slaves engaging in acts in front of everyone. One man was swallowing another’s cock while they buried their face in a slave woman’s breasts. All three seemed to be locked in pleasure while several Romans watched. One man had his slave watching as well, with a leather collar and chain affixed to it to make sure he couldn’t leave.

  
Erwin and the others hadn’t been collared yet but he was sure it was simply for the gratification of the moment. To show them as wild and untamed and then how the great Romans had ‘conquered’ them by putting leather around their throats in such a threatening manner.

  
While his body had to be still, even when hands drifted over him, his eyes were able to follow the body slave through the crowd. It was a thin crowd with only the ‘best’ gladiators on display. Surprisingly, Eren was actually chosen to be there. While some of the thinner and starved gladiators were in a back room for purchase, Eren was here due to his face being raw and bloody. The Romans sniffed and teased him, pressing his wounds and admiring at what a wild creature he was.

  
Eren was clearly stiff and uncomfortable, in nothing more than a loincloth as well now. But he took their advances well and didn’t move a muscle. Several women had loudly commented how much they would love to ‘try’ the wounded soldier themselves.

  
For Eren’s sake, he hoped he at least had an interest in women. Either way, he would be forced to participate.

  
Erwin flinched as another slave bumped into him. He steadied himself quickly and her eyes flashed to his. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, putting her head back down immediately. She had the same dark hair as the body slave he had been pondering about and the same fish scent about her.

  
“Tell me,” his voice was a low growl so the Romans wouldn’t hear them, “why do you smell like fish?”

  
The woman blinked at him slowly before her lips tightened. At first he thought she was upset with him until he noticed her shoulders shaking slightly. She was laughing at him!

  
“Is that the first thing you say to most people?” She had a slight accent to her voice, like Eren the gaul. We’re they from similar countries? “I work in the kitchens and we’re serving fish. Of course we’d smell like fish.”

  
Erwin’s lips twisted into a small smile, noting the humour, before his eyes flashed back up to the body slave. He didn’t work in the kitchens, so why did he smell the same.

  
The woman’s eyes followed his and she stiffened slightly. “My name is Mikasa. That’s my brother, Levi. He sometimes helps me out.”

  
“Ah.” That made sense. If he had helped his sister out, he would smell slightly. However, how come he didn’t clean himself up before this?

  
“And your name?” Mikasa prompted and Erwin realised he had been staring after Levi like a fool.

The smaller man had been entertaining several Roman men, pouring them drinks and making them laugh with ease. Yet his face barely changed from the stoic expression he seemed to constantly carry.

  
“Erwin.”

  
“Erwin,” she ran the word around her mouth, testing it out to see if she could pronounce it correctly the first time. “That’s a nice name.”

  
Erwin was taken aback. It was the first time in his life that he had been told that his name was nice. In fact, it was the first time he had been told anything in his life had been nice and it felt... good? He wasn’t exactly sure what the emotion was that he felt, but it was like a small thrill that started in his belly and worked its way up to the centre of his chest and shoulders. Like he was worthy of something for once.

  
All this over a compliment on his name.

  
He shook it off and masked his face back into one of cool indifference. Mikasa nodded her head before leaving to refill the jugs of wine, carrying multiple under her arms with a practiced ease.

  
The Roman man he assumed was Marcellus entered the room. He was wearing a robe of deep reds and gold, with a woman on his arm he presumed was his wife. She was pretty, with a pale face and light brown hair and eyes. He could easily see why someone like Marcellus would want to partner with such an attractive spouse. She easily drew the eye of every man and woman in the room and Erwin wouldn’t be surprised if everyone here had asked for her hand before Marcellus had.

  
“Tonight,” Marcellus clapped his hands and drew the attention to him at the front of the room with his booming voice echoing through the space, “we celebrate the arrivals of our new champions. They will meet the other gladiators tomorrow-“

  
“What’s left of them!” Yelled a Roman from the other side of the room, waving a goblet of wine wildly in the air while others cheered him on.

  
Marcellus acknowledged what was said with a fake laugh and smile, “Today, they are our entertainment. For tonight, these men are at your mercy. Tomorrow, the world will be at theirs.”

  
Cheers roared though the room and Erwin struggled not to cover his ears with the noise. These people were the loudest he’d been around and he definitely didn’t appreciate it. He winced and saw Mikasa doing the same. As she passed by a man carrying her jugs of wine, he reached out and grabbed her ass, squeezing tight enough to hurt. Mikasa’s face didn’t change and she continued walking, her step a little faster and heavier.

  
Erwin removed his eyes from the scene, landing once again on Levi. Marcellus had joined him and was whispering something in his ear. Levi seemed taken aback by what was being said in his ear although he seemed to hide it well. It was the quick flash in his eyes as they moved quickly compared to his usual slow moving grace that had Erwin knowing Levi wasn’t happy.

  
Marcellus gripped his arm tightly, a bruise most likely already forming, but somehow turned it into a more loving caress to the Romans in front of him.

  
Levi’s eyes roamed the room for a moment, landing on his sister and then they flashed back to the Roman in front of him and nodded, his face tight and withdrawn but willing to do whatever he had been asked. The dominus released his arm and motioned for him to leave with a flick of his hand. The man bowed his head and made a hasty escape out of the room.

  
Erwin looked over at Mikasa who didn’t look too worried. She was watching the space Levi had been but seemed completely relaxed at this point. Another slave, an older woman, had joined her in refilling the table full of fruit and was carefully arranging grapes as if her life depended on it.

  
Considering the world they lived in, it probably was.


	4. Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> If you’re reading this, thank you so much!  
> Two things!  
> One: Content warning for discussion of pedophilia  
> Two: For this chapter and the next, I’m trying to show how much attention Levi and Erwin pay to the problems around them. While angry and disgusted, Levi takes in less detail of the situations because he’s used to them. But Erwin is more focused on the acts of others. I hope this will come through!

Levi was, of course, upset. He had no guidance on the party and what he’d have to do and now he understood why. Marcellus was desperate to appeal to the other Romans and show off his wares, but to also make them enjoy it and think it was an amazing night. Blood would spill, bodies would be torn and many would wake up the next day with regrets weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Marcellus had gifted him with a task that repulsed him to his core, but he had no other option than to comply. If he didn’t, the older man would most likely use his sister for something like this next time and he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

He stalked through the hallways, rage following him like a disease he couldn’t shake. Levi was sure that if someone stood close enough they would be able to smell it coming off him in waves, if it wasn’t already as visible as heat on the sand creating miraculous waves.

He pushed aside one of the slaves as he made his way into their quarter. It was a horrible thought, but he always saw an ‘us and them’ situation. He usually got to sleep better to the dominus so he had proper bedding, and his sister and the other kitchen staff had a room off the kitchens that was fully stocked so they could get to work early and be available at a moment’s notice. But these slaves were simply house slaves, born to clean and fuck away the Roman’s worries. They at least had blankets, but less than half off the beddings had pillows and even less than that had any sort of bedding to protect them from the harsh rock beneath them.

Levi had seen the other slaves who had their hips rubbed raw from sleeping on the cold stones. When they would toss and turn at night they would reopen the wounds over and over until heir bodies grew thick scar tissue over the top to try and protect itself. One woman died from getting hers infected and, with no ability to pay for medicine and a dominus that didn’t care about slaves that didn’t personally matter to him, watched her die a painful death.

He shook off the memories, looking around the room. The last time he was in here was for another bad deed and the slaves cringed away from him. For a moment, his heart clenched in agony to know that people in a similar situation were so afraid of him, but he hardened again and set his face into his signature scowl. He, like them, was just doing his job. He didn’t want to be the next person to die of an infection.

“You,” he pointed at a young boy whose mother tried to shield him, “the dominus wants you. Now.”

The little boy, with hair as yellow as straw and eyes like the sky looked up at his mother for confirmation. It was easy to tell that every muscle in her body was poised, ready to reject the order and make sure no one touched her baby, and then the fight left her body. Better to do what is needed than to both die for it.

She nodded to him and he got up, coming over to Levi and taking his hand. Levi jerked in surprise, nearly yanking his hand from the boy’s. But the grip tightened and he stayed. He led the boy outside and back down the hallway.

“Who are you?”

Levi glanced down at the boy which was a huge mistake. The little boy was beautiful, with a face of a tiny angel. It made him want to wrap the child up in his arms and make sure nothing could ever hurt him. But he couldn’t. He was powerless to stop anything and everyone knew it.

“I’m Levi.”

“Oh. I’m Armin.”

Levi motioned that he had heard and picked up his speed. He couldn’t take it much longer, knowing what was going to happen to him. He knew the dominus did this on purpose - it was a form of torture Levi couldn’t protest but it killed something inside of him every single time.

The first time he saw what happened he had begged. Begged for it to stop; begged to take his place. Simply begged for anything but what was about to happen. Afterwards, he didn’t know if he could live with himself and what he saw. He knew he wasn’t guilty, but he didn’t stop it either. It was something that wasn’t so obviously black and white. He was guilty and not, all at the same time.

He reached the party and paused, feeling Armin squeeze his hand again. He looked down at the boy. “Be brave,” he whispered, before pulling back the curtain and pulling Armin in with him.

Several Romans paused in their conversation as they walked by to admire either him or the child. Eyes roamed everywhere and Levi held in his grimace. He could see the line of gladiators in the background and wanted to scream at them to do something. So much strength and muscle, but so useless to do anything. And so many of them saw themselves as so high and mighty.

“Ah! Here he is!” Senator Marcellus said loudly, waving his arms to both of them. “Come, come! We’ve been waiting!” He knelt down to Armin’s level and looked at him, an appreciative look on his face. “He’s beautiful. One day he might replace you, Levi.”

To anyone else, the look on Levi’s face would be one of jealousy, like he’d bitten into a lemon and forgotten how much it stung. But in reality, it was a look of disgust: one his dominus noticed immediately.

“Choose a gladiator.”

This was how Levi knew he was more guilty than innocent. He could cause a scene, refuse, demand anything but this. But in all honesty, he was scared. His life would be on the line and despite his life being that of a slave, he couldn’t give it up just yet.

He obediently went over to the line of gladiators, walking silently down them. He avoided eye contact with any of them. He wanted to get this over and done with before the nightmares began. At least if he didn’t see their faces, he wouldn’t dream of them.

“You,” he motioned to a gladiator. This man had long brown hair that touched his shoulders and a scar on his full lips, but Levi still refused to look into his eyes. He just knew it wasn’t the man he had been thinking of earlier, with the corn coloured hair.

The gladiator seemed to preen as he stepped out of the line, flaunting his muscles and making eyes at the women. He only knew this because the Roman women were giggling and blushing at whatever he was doing. He cringed inwardly knowing this man’s life was going to change forever.

They went back over to the dominus and felt a wave of despair like cold water crash over him.  
Senator Marcellus nodded approvingly. “Now, fuck him.”

The gladiator rolled his shoulders and looked at Levi. “Sure. He’s a little foreign for my tastes, but he looks feminine enough.”

“Not him,” Marcellus said it slowly, pronouncing each word with his tongue like a viper. It flicked out of his mouth for a moment and ran over his top teeth. “Him.”

He held out his hand with Armin attached to it. Armin was blinking innocently, clearly not knowing what the word meant or what was about to happen to him. The gladiator took one look at the child, horror as the reality set in. “No.”

“Do you refuse your dominus?”

The gulp from the gladiator was audible. His throat physically moved with the gesture as if it pained him, which Levi was sure it did. He began backing away from the scene but didn’t get far. His back ran into a wall of muscle and before he could dart out of the way, an arm reached out and grabbed him.

“Steady,” a deep voice rumbled. Levi looked up to see the gladiator from before. He couldn’t pull his arm free so he turned his attention back onto the scene.

The gladiator had knelt down to Armin’s level and was looking at him. He was asking for his name, making it more personal like an idiot would. For an adult, making it personal would make it feel less like rape. For a child, knowing their name and hearing their voice would haunt you for the rest of you life.

Levi tensed up and felt the man behind him let out a soft, calming noise. He began to run his hand up and down Levi’s arm in a soothing gesture, firm but kind.

“I can’t do it,” the gladiator finally announced, standing back up. “I will happily perform with anyone else in this room, but not with a child.”

Marcellus’ face cracked into a slow smile. The other Romans began to giggle and whisper. The gladiator fell into a sense of ease, clearly thinking it must have been some sort of test and perhaps he had passed.

“Pity,” the Senator next to Marcellus said. “I was hoping for a show. Either way, we’ll get one.”

Senator Marcellus nodded to him and motioned to the gladiator. “You won’t put on a show with the boy? Fine. Kill him then.”

Levi backed into the strange man again who was still holding him tightly. He didn’t want to watch, but he knew if he looked away Marcellus would somehow find out and punish him. It had happened before and he wasn’t keen on repeating the situation.

The room went tense and Levi could almost hear the pressure building in the room to the point where his ears begged to pop. The gladiators were on edge, even the man behind him hardened with anger. The quiver in the bigger man’s body was physical - he must have wanted to jump in and save the child from the situation. But Levi suspected he was intelligent enough to choose not to do so.

Romans in the room had a different level of excitement. They were eager, their eyes gleaming and their bodies tense from the thrill of the hunt in front of them. They were so bloodthirsty they were hoping to see children harmed in front of them. Levi imagined some of the people wanting to see the child murdered would most likely know and love a child around the same age; would they act the same way if it was their child standing in Armin’s place?

Armin whimpered, clutching onto Marcellus’ hands as if that would save him. Did the child not realise that this was the same man who called for his destruction? He was so innocent that he would cling to the worst man in the room and hope for safety instead of finding it himself.

The gladiator looked around the room and there was a moment of release from his body. He looked older, like he was on his thirtieth year, and the lines around his eyes screamed of exhaustion. In that moment Levi suspected he realised he could let it all go. He didn’t have to be a slave anymore, or a gladiator, or commit grievous acts of sin for the entertainment of others.

He loosed his arms beside him and shrugged, his shoulders relaxed and ready for his punishment. The man wasn’t stupid - he knew what his punishment would be when he had never proven himself on the sands of the arena yet.

“Kill him,” Marcellus motioned with his fingers to the gladiator. “Slowly.”

The Romans in the room cheered as if they’d been given a great gift. Several soldiers that had been invited immediately grabbed the gladiator but there was no fight to be had. The older man was done and ready for it all to be over.

Levi felt the man behind him clench down on his arm and he turned to look up at him. “Let me go.”

“No.”

He shrugged in return. “Then the dominus will kill you for touching his property.”

“Am I not his property too?”

“Not yet.”

The blond man stared at him for a moment before letting him go. “Sometimes I forget that every place I go to I need to prove myself.”

Levi met his eyes with a cold stare of his own. He knew what he looked like because not only did he look at himself in the mirror and perfect the icy look, he’d known many Romans who thought it mad him a challenge. And a challenge he would be. “Next time, don’t forget.”

“I doubt there’s a next time. I’ll probably be too old and end up like that poor soul.”

“He’s being chained up for their pleasure because he couldn’t follow the rules. He was given two options and he failed to do either of them.”

“You can’t seriously say that he should have raped or killed the child.”

Levi fell silent, his eyes gravitating to the other man’s neck. He had just noticed he had a small band of leather like a necklace hanging down. It was held together with some beads. To him it looked like jewellery and he knew what Romans would think of that.

He finally met the other man’s eyes who was patiently waiting for him to speak and give his opinion. Did he want to see the boy raped? No. But with that face he would end up a body slave in no time doing it for his job. He would have to start somewhere and it was better than being dead. Levi was much younger when he had started, even though he still woke up with cold sweat stuck to his body and memories of another, much larger Roman who wanted to keep him young forever, no matter what it took.

“I need to go,” he murmured, knowing he needed to grab Armin and take him back to his quarters before the Romans noticed he was still accessible.

“Come back and talk, Levi.”

Levi’s head snapped around and he glared at him. “How do you know my name?”

“Your sister.”

Levi fumed at him silently, probably looking like the biggest fool in the room for a second. “Don’t speak to her again.”

“Then you speak to me. Tonight. Come to where I sleep. Wherever that will be.”

“No,” Levi wasn’t about to play games with a gladiator. All they wanted was to kill or have a good night. He wasn’t willing to be a victim to either desire. 

“Then when will you speak to me?”

Levi shook his head. “When you become a full gladiator for this ludus, I will see you as an equal slave here. And if my dominus commands it, I will speak to you.”

He walked away at this, not wanting to continue speaking to the other man whose name he still did not know. He didn’t want such knowledge either. If he knew, then it would make it harder to watch him bleed out on the arena sands when his throat was cut. The man had a thick neck, easy for a sword or knife to get to. The bigger the target, the deeper the cut.

Armin was trembling near Marcellus, but he at least had the good sense to hide near one of the food tables. None of the Romans were looking at him. Levi cast a glance at the gladiator who had not only saved Armin’s life but also his body and saw that he no longer had fingers. It was easy to tell that he was holding in screams. His face was drenched in sweat and was so pale he looked like he was either about to throw up or faint.

With a loud noise, he threw up on the stone floor in front of him to the cheers of the Romans. Some threw food into the vomit as a way to celebrate the bodily function. 

The gladiator looked down at his hands, now bloody stumps without the fingers attached. Levi could see him trying to move his fingers, the bones in his hands shifting with the effort but finding no release due to the fact the rest were missing. The blood flowed faster down the roots of his wrists, beginning to coat his elbows with dripping dark red liquid as he raised his hands to stare at what had become of the very things that had won him fights in the arena and had saved his life more times than he could count.

Levi could see it in his eyes, he barely believed he was actually seeing the mess in front of him. It was not something easy to believe and the human brain was more than capable of telling you it was just a dream and that everything was alright.

He wondered if the man was still feeling pain or if that was a distant memory. He knew of some who would claim they could still feel the appendages and limbs they were missing long after they were gone. Levi thought they were crazy when he was a child, but now he wasn’t so sure. This man would still be able to feel his bones in his hands; all he would need to do would be to extend that feeling beyond the bloodied mess and imagine fingers.

This was what you chose, a voice reminded him in the back of his head. You chose this child and you chose this man to suffer. Just because you don’t want that for him doesn’t mean it’s not your fault he’s up there.

Levi shook the voice out of his head as he turned away from the vision. A Roman woman had began taking off one of his feet from the ankle down and he knew he’d had enough of the show. He grabbed Armin’s hand and dragged him out of the room as fast as he could go.

He knew one day he wouldn’t be a lucky spectator. One day he’d be ‘too old’ for his dominus and he’d either be sold to someone disgusting or put on display to have pieces carved out of him. On more than one occasion, he’d seen the Romans licking the blood front their fingers and crying out in satisfaction. He didn’t want to be a future meal for these kinds of people. As long as he could continue pleasing, he wouldn’t need to worry.

“Can I go to bed now?” Armin asked, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Levi looked down at him, knowing that once he had been that scared child, as innocent and naive as a flower. The little boy was wearing a dirty brown robe and Levi vowed to remind the boy’s mother to keep him looking as dirty as possible to avoid the unwanted attention of the powerful men that graced these halls.

“Yes,” Levi gave his hand a squeeze, relying on the small child’s strength as the boy had done with him earlier. “You may go to bed.”


	5. Erwin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so much for reading and supporting! I’m so amazed and shocked that we’ve almost reached 1000 reads on this so soon! Let’s hit that number and go further!

Three months. It took three damn months to prove himself to the ludus. Not only did the doctore refuse to test any of them until they were all up to his standard, but he had made them run drill after drill until he was satisfied with the results. 

To his annoyance, Eren had turned out to be one of the better gladiators in the sense that he was fast. But he wasn’t the most intelligent and he wasn’t very strong. Erwin didn’t want to admit it, but he’d found himself looking after the boy more than once to make sure he was keeping up.

Now Eren had a lean layer of muscle over his body that he didn’t have before, making his thin body sinewy and tight looking. His arms had gone from looking tender and gentle (like the hands of a body slave) to tough, dirty and potentially ready for battle. 

They had met the gladiators that were already there as well. Most looked down their noses at them, but Erwin had played these sorts of games before. For the moment, he was rejected from any sort of alliance, but once he was a brother he would be accepted with no questions asked. He believed more questions should be asked because he believed one of them was a thief - and not a good one at that- and Eren had the mind of a small child with all his questions and nattering.

But today was finally the day, and Erwin was more than ready. They now all had their leather collars around their necks and they would only come off if they were sold or killed. He had his leather necklace beneath which rubbed uncomfortably but he didn’t take it off. Today, many would be killed while some would join the brotherhood and be prepared for the arena. Erwin wasn’t too worried about himself; with his size and strength he would easily make it through. But some of the other men here raised a question in his mind and he suffered from doubt when it came to Eren.

They were being called out one at a time to fight one of the gladiators who had already proven themselves. This was because they were used to fighting one another and knew the strengths and weaknesses of their unblooded brothers but these people had been untouched by them and were going to take them by surprise.

If Erwin was being honest with himself, he knew these fights were doomed to begin with for most. They were used to the habits of fighting - they knew what worked on certain people and what didn’t and weren’t used to heading into a fight blind. They would need to learn on the spot and without a history of doing so it would be impossible.

He was hoping many would surprise him by adapting.

One of the men was called forward and he walked onto the sand of the training pit with a cocky, jaunty walk. He obviously felt assured of his place and suspected he would win. Erwin had met this type before. Even if they succeeded at this event, they usually didn’t last long in a real arena.

This man met the trained gladiator, picking out two wooden swords. They were meant to spar only with wooden items until they were blooded but they could still kill a man. The trained gladiator had a wooden sword and shield. Thankfully, they were allowed to choose which weapons they were most comfortable with.

While Erwin felt most confident with a sword, and sometimes two at that, he might try a spear this time around for sheer enjoyment. He had gotten to the point where these small triumphs encouraged him to do better for such a pointless task.

The untrained man went swinging wild, all of his training out the window. He was not the type to adapt and was obviously confused about how to begin. Instead of testing the other man’s defence, he obviously thought barrelling towards him at full speed was his best option.

He was now hanging off the end of the gladiators wooden sword, blood dripping down it rapidly. His face was caught in a stunned expression as if he hadn’t expected it to go the way it had before he slumped down to the ground. The blooded gladiators laughed uproariously at the man’s dead body and one even went as far as to spit on his body. The man he had been fighting with left his sword in his body while rolling it off to the side so the next fight could take place. Erwin was sure the blood had ruined the wood anyway so it would have been a lost cause if they had pulled it free.

“Erwin.”

His head jerked up as his name was called. It was a bit early to be called as he had been sitting towards the back of the group, but the doctore was clearly picking at random.

Standing up, he went over to the weapons and plucked out a long spear and a shield. He was going to fight the same gladiator as the man prior to him but this time he was going to win. This wasn’t him thinking too highly of himself - it was simply that he trusted his own skills and knew how to approach a fight correctly. He’d been on the sands too many times to be taken down in a ceremony like this.

Honestly, he’d be embarrassed.

He glanced up at the ludus onto the balcony where the dominus sat. He was being served wine and fruits while he watched the fighting below with keen interest. Erwin could see the bloodlust in him, but he knew the man would curb it in order to see more men succeed and win him money.

Looking further, he saw Levi standing behind him, watching the show while pretending not to look interest. He was speaking to Senator Marcellus but his eyes kept drifting to the practice sands, looking at the fight and, Erwin noticed with intrigue, definitely looking at his body.

To be fair, when he’d first arrived he was still muscular and strong, but it had been a couple of months since he’d properly trained. Now, his body was back to peak performance. His body was tight and muscular, with not a shred of fat to be seen. He worked it to the perfect level everyday and ate everything he could to create substance in his size. If he didn’t eat enough, his muscle would waste away from over use, and if he ate too much he would grow exhausted on days when he didn’t get enough. Most of the time he didn’t have a choice, he was just fed slop of unknown origin, but Mikasa had been sneaking fruit to him everyday and talking to him about the politics of the ludus.

But whenever he asked about Levi, it was as if she barely knew what he was. She confirmed he was a ‘friend’ to the dominus which secured her position, but saw no issue with their relationship.  
It was fairly strange.

Erwin turned his eyes back onto his opponent, fixing his grip on both spear and shield so he could properly defend and attack. The doctore announced it was time to fight and the two men began circling each other.

The trained gladiator feinted towards him, trying to push him back or get him to stumble so he would have the power, but Erwin refused to give him ground. He simply raised his shield in case it wasn’t a feint and continued his movement. He was watching the other man and all his corded muscle.

As he watched, he understood the man was left handed even though he held the sword with his right. He was most likely doing this to give them a chance to fight against someone who wasn’t at their full potential. He also had an injury to his right ankle. He was favouring his left leg and he could tell it was stiffening every time it touched the sand beneath him.

Perfect.

He launched forward and the gladiator took it for a feint, not moving back. Erwin tipped his spear down and slid it under his right leg, both dodging his left handed strike and taking away his solid footing. He pulled his spear towards him, dislodging his right leg and forcing his body to become unstable. The gladiator fell with a yell, unable to hold his weight on his left leg while also holding two weapons he was attempting to use.

Erwin pulled his shield back and quickly struck, placing the wooden spear at the base of the other man’s throat.

There was a pause, shock in the gladiator’s eyes at being bested so quickly. Then he took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and began laughing loudly.

The other gladiators and the doctore began laughing as well. He had passed and now they were taking his win with good grace. Erwin pulled his spear away and reached out a hand.

“Fuck off!” The gladiator slapped his hand away jovially, still chuckling, and got to his feet without much effort.

The doctore thumped a heavy hand down on Erwin’s shoulder. “Good eye. It won’t always help in the arena with someone who is bigger and stronger than you, but it worked well for you today.”

Erwin nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. He had expected more of a fight from the other gladiator considering he had literally killed another person moments ago, but it seemed he either got lucky or the gladiator didn’t care as much as it seemed he had.

Joining the blooded gladiators, he sat with them and they immediately shared their food and water with them. Nothing fancy, but stale bread and water was better than the pig trough he had been drinking from before.

“Eren.”

Erwin’s eyes gravitated to the field as his friend’s name was called. Eren looked pale and nervous and had picked his fingernails raw and bloody. He stood up, shaky, and made his way to the field. The doctore called a different man to the field and Erwin stared in horror.

They had chosen the tallest, largest man to fight Eren who looked like a little white mouse next to him. He saw Eren’s face grow even whiter as he stared up at the giant of a man in front of him.

“Well, fuck,” Eren squeaked.

“Choose your weapons.”

Eren shakily went over to the wooden items, looking at them all hesitantly. He fumbled with a few before he pulled out two shorter wooden blades. Erwin nodded to himself, knowing it was a good choice. Eren wasn’t strong, but he was fast and smart. If he could draw them in close, he had a good chance of winning. But with the man they chose for him, it looked like an impossible feat. Even Erwin would have been nervous to fight him for his initiation.

The little man met the giant in the middle of the field, both having drawn a double blade and no shield. The giant nodded once in approval at his opponent and the choice they’d both made.

“Begin!” The doctore yelled, stepping out of range. He seemed to take even a larger step away from the giant.

Eren immediately scampered back, putting space between him and the larger man. The giant seemed rooted to the spot, not moving and barely raising his blades at all. If Erwin hadn’t seen Eren, he would have thought no fight was taking place and the man was just relaxing with some blades.

Erwin watched as Eren attempted to try a circular motion but the giant wasn’t having any of it. He looked almost bored while Eren darted this way and that, sweat slicking his hair and flies beginning to take notice of his salty skin.

Finally, the bigger man moved. And damn, he was fast. He ran at Eren so quickly Erwin was surprised the small man didn’t immediately piss himself in fear. But Eren moved as well, surprisingly faster and into a good position. He knocked one of the blades from the giant’s hands. However in doing so, the vibration rocked his blade out of his grip as well.

Both men were down to one blade each.

Realising his mistake, Eren tried to dart towards one of the wooden instruments, but the giant blocked him even though he was not picking up either of them himself. He barely seemed phased about losing one of his weapons but Eren looked frantic.

The giant came at him again, striking over and over again while Eren blocked him. Finally, he knocked Eren’s blade out of his hand and smacked him in the head. Eren went down like a sack of potatoes, falling into the sand but his eyes were open. The giant threw his blade to the side and got down on top of him throwing punch after punch.

Eren’s head slipped to the side and made contact with Erwin’s. Erwin was shifting uncomfortably, wanting to help but knowing he couldn’t. He could do nothing but watch.

The younger man’s hand gripped tightly into the sand beneath him and Erwin almost laughed. The boy wasn’t going to give up. It was brave but foolish. A punch to the giant wouldn’t do much but potentially piss him off. If he wanted a quick death, he should just let it happen.

But Erwin realised in a split second that he was wrong about Eren. Eren wasn’t giving up and he wasn’t trying to punch the giant on top of him.

Sand.

He had grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in the giant’s face. No, throwing it wasn’t the best word Erwin could use to describe the event unfolding before his eyes. It was more like he stuffed the sand into the larger man’s face and pushed it into every crevice; his eyes, his mouth, his nose. Everywhere was rubbed with sand and the man screamed, clawing at his eyes to get it out.

In a moment, Eren was on top of the man, forcing more and more sand into his mouth and muffling the cries. He didn’t need to though - his own screams were loud enough to wake the dead and haunt it. They were the screams of a man who thought he was dying but had suddenly realised he could save himself. It was a high pitched, angry melody that rebounded off the walls around them and drove straight into Erwin’s head, reminding him of all the people who had screamed before he had cut off their lives for money and glory. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and he noticed several other gladiators rubbing their arms or shifting uncomfortably.

Finally, Eren slowed down with his attack, staring down at the bigger man beneath him who was struggling for air and vision. Eren’s breathing was starting to regulate and he was breathing through his mouth to avoid the blood streaming from his nose.

The entire area was silent. Even the Romans watching from the balcony had leant forward and was giving the situation their undivided attention. Eren looked up at the doctore who had walked over silently. He winced, most likely expecting a reprimand or argument.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” the doctore announced. “Come. Rise and meet your new brothers.”

Eren slowly got off the other man and Erwin could see he was apologising to him over and over again as shakes took over his body. The doctore pushed him towards the group and Erwin stood up, slinging an arm around him and bringing him down to sit next to him. It didn’t bode well to have your owners watch you have a panic attack and Erwin knew he had to normalise the situation as quickly as possible.

“He will be fine,” he murmured. “Calm yourself. Take a deep breath and relax.”

Eren took in a rattling breath, one that shuddered by itself and told Erwin that the boy was not okay.  
“Remember, he is a gladiator. He’s seen a lot worse. You won your fight better than we did. If you didn’t, you would be dead. He only has an injury.”

“An injury I caused.”

“An injury you will have to cause again if you want to survive this.” Erwin reminded sternly. It wouldn’t do to give the boy false hope and tell him everything was going to be okay.

Eren nodded, still shaky but seemingly alert again. His eyes were looking clear again and he was starting to watch the next fights in earnest.

Erwin wasn’t watching, however. His eyes were drifting over to the balcony and a certain servant above. Even when someone’s bloody tooth rolled to a stop at his feet, he didn’t turn to look at who was screaming in agony.


	6. Levi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I’m sorry you had to wait so long for this next chapter! I was focused on a whole bunch of things and had to set this aside for a few weeks. But no matter, I hath returned.   
> Let me know how your week is going!

Levi tried to avoid looking at the gladiators. His job was to stand next to Senator Marcellus and look good while passing him wine. Usually body slaves were exempt from having to feed or pour wine for their master, but Marcellus liked having his wine being held by him. Once, he had mentioned that the warmth of Levi’s hands made the wine taste better.

He was full of shit.

But when he heard the gladiator’s name being called out, he couldn’t help but look at the blond, muscled man as he approached his threat. He tried not to lean forward to watch the action, but when he heard he Romans whispering and paying attention, he glanced over.

Erwin clearly knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid to show it. Levi knew this was not a good idea - the Romans would simply use him more and punish him a lot worse when he couldn’t come through for them. He knew Erwin and Mikasa had been speaking to one another and, much to his disapproval, seemed to have struck up a friendship. It hurt him to see Mikasa get so close to another man, but he knew he would need to wish her every happiness if Erwin made her happy.

He couldn’t help the flicker of jealousy, however much he tried to push it down. Mikasa might be able to get married one day to another slave, perhaps even a gladiator if they’re both under good behaviour rights, while he would be stuck servicing Marcellus for the rest of his life. Even if he were to be released, he would have no future in this world. A foreign man on foreign soil is never bound to do well in such a strange land. Adding to that a long history as a body slave and he would find himself as useful as an ancient whore. No one would want to touch him. Even if they did, he wouldn’t be payed much.

Pretending like he was fixing the wine goblets, he stared down at the production below. Erwin was circling another man, both looking devious and clever with their weapons. It sent a shudder down Levi’s spine to think about himself holding those. On one hand, knowing how to defend himself might be nice, but on the other hand it would mean a higher chance of being killed. Threatening people who aren’t Roman elites don’t last long.

“Levi,” Marcellus motioned for him to refill his glass. Levi promptly returned with the wine, pouring it carefully. He heard a cheer down below and tensed. Who was the victor?

He avoided eye contact with the commotion below as he returned the wine and took his place next to Marcellus. He didn’t want to get distracted with expensive drink in his hands. However, he couldn’t help it; he looked down and his knees threatened to buckle. Erwin was still alive and moving to sit with the other gladiators.

Another took his place, and another. Marcellus’ hand snaked up the back of Levi’s leg to rest on his ass, fondling and squeezing without restriction. Thankfully, the only other slave up here was Finius, who looked at Levi with amusement before excusing himself. Levi knew the other man wasn’t laughing at him, but it still bothered him that he constantly had to be on display to others like this.

Marcellus pulled Levi onto his lap to watch the last few gladiators before it ended. Several of the recruits had died but, thankfully, most had made it through. Now to see if they’d last in the actual arena.

“When you’re done with branding them, come to my bed,” Marcellus ordered, patting him off his lap. Levi, his sister and a few other slaves were on branding duty for the gladiators. This was because most of the other slaves had permanent stations they couldn’t leave for long periods of time, but Levi and a few others could take a few hours out of their day with no issue.

“As you wish, master,” Levi replied, bowing his head slightly, and leaving the balcony. He felt better, like their was more oxygen in the room when he was away from his owner. Marcellus was someone who could suck the air from a space without moving a muscle. In some people it could be incredible, like their beauty stops a room or their charisma inspires a nation, but with Marcellus it was usually because he was a dangerous man. Even the other Romans knew not to cross him. If Marcellus wanted something, they were often very quick to oblige without complaint. He’d forcibly taken the virginity of lesser Roman’s daughters, bought other people’s best selling gladiators and leaving them with no opportunity to earn money through the fights, and often killed slaves and gladiators for his own amusement.

He was, and always would be, a Roman through and through. Perfect, but corrupting.

Levi made his way to the branding station where another slave was already heating up the metal. The brand featured the look of a bird’s foot - a long line that split into three at the top. Sometimes Marcellus referred to it as a ‘turkey track’, but he had no idea what a turkey was and wasn’t interested in finding out. If it was something Marcellus spoke fondly of, he knew he wouldn’t want to meet such a terrifying beast.

Felix, the slave heating up the metal, raised his head and gave Levi a small small. Felix was a Roman himself, sold to Marcellus by his parents. He was considered not as useful as his siblings (as his brothers were politicians and his sisters were used to forge bonds with others through marriage) and was sold in order to make money to fund one of his brother’s political campaigns. Felix was built like a lion - strong limbs and the ability to create a weapon out of nothing more than a lump of metal or wood.

Levi considered the man invaluable. He had skills many people desired and worked tirelessly throughout the day. He didn’t understand why his parents didn’t see that and sell the items he created for money instead.

“Hi Levi” Felix murmured, checking the top of his metal. Not red yet, so he stuck it back in the flames. “How are you?”

“Same as always,” Levi replied. He went over to the blacksmith and watched him work. “Did you watch the fight?”

Felix looked amused for a moment. “Yes. Some rather interesting blood this year.”

“Interesting,” Levi repeated softly. He looked over as the door slammed open and gladiators poured into the area. Many already had their brands, but they were here to see the new men take their’s. If anyone whimpered, cried or even hissed through their teeth, they would be made fun of for the rest of the week. They were a charming group of men.

His eyes gravitated to the large man who walked in slowly. Erwin ushered in a younger man and made him sit down in the corner. Curious, Levi craned his neck to see.

“Who’s that?” Felix asked, coming to stand next to him.

“Which one?”

“The one you’re staring at.”

Levi glanced back at the blacksmith. “Erwin. He’s a new gladiator. He’s friends with Mikasa.” As he said that, Mikasa entered the room and spotted the two men. She went over to them immediately, fussing over their wounds.

“Seems like she wants to be more than friends with him,” Felix murmured. Levi sent him a sharp look before realising that Felix wasn’t making fun of anyone. His eyes were narrowed and he was watching the two of them closely, as if he could see something Levi could not. When Levi followed his eyes, he was startled to see Erwin’s blue eyes staring back at him.

Levi covered his surprise with a cough and turned away. “We need to get started.”

Felix turned his eyes onto him and gave him a gentle smile, his brown hair and eyes warm in a room without much heat. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you need to be concerned about Mikasa.”

Before Levi could question what that meant, Felix yelled at the men to line up. Of course, this took a while because the men were jostling and fighting over who would get branded first. Finally, they were lined up and the first man was sitting down, ready for his brand.

“Let me know if you need something to bite onto,” Felix murmured and received a grunt in response.

The brand bit deeply into the man’s skin on his upper right arm, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. It was a rotten scent, a deep pungent scent of meat and smoke. 

“Mikasa,” Levi called out to his sister. “Hurry up.”

Mikasa hurried over to him, a bowl of egg whites in her hands. Levi took the bowl and placed it next to the one filled with vinegar. Mikasa took the cloth and dipped it in the vinegar, ready to start cleaning the wound.

Most slave owners didn’t bother with this, but Marcellus was adamant that wound cleansing was necessary. What would be the point in buying someone who dies moments later of something like an infection? A waste of time and money most were too rich to care about. But Marcellus wanted every cent he could possibly earn from every body.

Mikasa used her cloth to wipe the wound quickly, the man’s eyes glazing over. The issue was that most of these men thought getting the wound would be the most painful part. No one ever thought about the aftercare.

“Sit,” Levi muttered, pointing at the stool in front of him. He had a brush in the egg whites and, once the man was seated, began to brush it onto the wound. The egg white, as he had once been told by a man of medicine, sealed the wound and prevented infection. It was also a lot more soothing to the area.

They began going through the men at a quick pace. Felix would brand them, Mikasa would clean them, and Levi would seal them. It was quick, easy and practiced work. 

At the very end were Erwin and his new friend. By the time they got to them, most of the people had cleared out of the room - the gladiators were bored of watching and the newly branded men wanted to get something to eat and ignore the pain on their arm. 

“Go,” Erwin motioned to his friend to get branded. The boy looked at him with fear before quickly ducking forward.

“I won’t bite,” Felix chuckled, readying his tool. Eren squeezed his eyes shut and Levi knew that Erwin had kept the new boy back to avoid being harassed for this later. “Who are you?”

“Eren.”

“You fought well today,” Felix said, distracting the boy for a moment before pressing the hot metal into his skin. Eren let out a soft noise of distress, sweat popping out on his skin. The boy was already covered in sweat and dirt so it was already a feat.

When Felix raised the brand, Mikasa dipped the vinegar onto him as gently as possible before sitting him down. Eren looked like he was about to faint from the pain and the stress of the day. Levi cast his eyes over his body and saw no other brands or scars. He was not only new to being a gladiator, but new to being a slave. His body would have to get used to this and quickly.

He brushed the egg over the wound, making sure he got it all. The least he could do for a fellow slave was make sure he didn’t die too quickly. 

As Eren got up, Erwin sat down. He had been so quick and silent getting his brand that Levi had missed it.

“I can do this one!” Mikasa offered, reaching out for the bowl.

“Oh, Eren is about to faint!” Felix stated. “Mikasa, you need to help him. I can’t leave my tools and Levi is busy.”

Mikasa frowned over at him but went over to Eren who did look a little dizzy on his feet. Levi cut him a look and Felix sent him a wink in response. What was that meant to mean?

“Will you talk to me now I’m a gladiator?” Erwin asked, his deep voice sending tremors down Levi’s body.

“No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

They watched Mikasa take out Eren, talking to him about getting him some food from the kitchens to help settle his stomach. Suddenly, Felix put his branding tool in a bucket of water and walked out. Levi gaped at his back.

“Who’s going to look after his tools?” Levi asked, staring at all the metal and not knowing what to do with them. “He said he couldn’t leave them!”

“That’s the most you’ve ever said to me,” Erwin murmured. “Am I going to get cleaned up now, or what? Your sister missed part of my arm with the stinging liquid.”

Levi forced his lips not to twitch. ‘Stinging liquid’ amused him for some reason but he refused to let it make him laugh.

“It’s vinegar,” he replied, putting down his bowl of egg whites and picking up the other. “It helps clean the wound.”

“How?”

Levi blinked at him as he pulled the cloth out of the liquid and began dabbing it onto the brand. No one had ever asked him how before and he wasn’t sure he knew the correct answer. “I think it kills any infection.”

“That’s why it stings,” Erwin mused, staring at Levi who was avoiding his eyes. “You’re good with medicine?”

“No,” Levi shook his head. “I only know this from another who taught me.”

“That’s how all medical people start.”

Levi looked at Erwin’s body. It was covered with messy scars and brands, now all covered as he was sold onto the next Ludus. Nothing was safe from the imperfections that marred his skin - fighting for years had done a toll on his body, but it was still strong and useful.

“I’m a body slave,” Levi replied curtly. He didn’t want a discussion on what he could be. Only what he was.

Erwin raised a brow. “So, how can anyone trust you?”

“What do you mean?” He applied the egg quickly, with a practiced ease he had learnt over the years. At least he had that to be proud of - he was not only good with remembering how to heal wounds, but also was meticulous with them and made sure they wouldn’t come back to haunt the owner of them.

“You go to bed with the dominus every night and whisper all the secrets to him,” Erwin shrugged. “He trusts you to do things like this and not stray into another’s arms. You are trusted by him, so therefore trusted by no slave. Yet Felix seems to like you. And your sister.”

Levi stiffened in anger. How dare this man question who he was? They were both slaves, both owed by the same man, but a different job made him untrustworthy?

“At least he wants me here,” Levi hissed. “Yours can’t wait to get rid of you.” He motioned to the scars over his body of past brands. “You might be a good fighter, but you’re worth nothing to them.”

He slammed down his bowl and walked away from the room. He didn’t care if Felix’s tools burnt to a crisp - he no longer wanted to be in the room with such a frustrating creature.

But Erwin said something that made him pause in the doorway for one moment. The words made doubt flicker in the back of his mind. It was said quietly but his voice seemed to echo as if yelled into a canyon.

“And you think you’re worth something to them?”


	7. Chapter 7: Erwin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter! I promise I'm back on track and you should be getting regular updates!

“Erwin,” Felix reentered the room, wiping his dirty hands on an even dirtier cloth. “Levi seemed bothered when he left. What did you say to him?”

“The truth,” Erwin replied, blankly. Felix and he had become friends over the last few weeks. With no one else to speak to (the other gladiators just wanted to talk about fighting and he was pretty sure Mikasa was trying to flirt with him) he’d struck up conversations with the blacksmith. He was amazed to find out the other man was well read and educated.

Felix rolled his eyes and went over to his bucket of tools, pulling them from the water and hanging them back on the wall after checking them quickly. “The truth, or your version of the truth?” When silence rang back at him, he turned to watch Erwin. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re interested in Levi.”

A sound similar to a choking pig came from Erwin’s mouth. “I’m not interested in the body slave.”

Felix quirked a brow and motioned to the now-broken bowl of egg next to him. “You call everyone by name but you can’t say his. And you purposely work him into a frenzy. Why offend him?”

“I didn’t offend him.” Erwin turned his head away, looking at his new brand as if it interested him. It was ugly, just like any other.

“Levi doesn’t usually break plates when he’s in my room with me.”

“Is he usually in your room with you?” Erwin asked, trying to keep his voice blank and devoid of any interest. But his mind began rushing through any encounters he’d seen between Felix and Levi. Were they interested in one another?

“See?” Felix crowed. “Why else would you ask that?”

Erwin sighed and turned back to his friend. “Even if I was interested in him, what could I do about it? He’s a slave and will always answer to his dominus first. There’s nothing there.”

Felix dragged another stool out from under his work bench and sat across from him. “Erwin, I’ve been here a good long while. Levi holds a station here, but not necessarily a good one. He keeps his job and does it well. But don’t mistake a good worker for a broken man. I’ve seen broken men – the look in their eyes is as haunting as a corpse of a loved one. But Levi doesn’t have that. He has fire and a desire to work in order to keep his sister safe. Every perfect move he makes is to make sure she’s left alone and is fed at the end of the day. Did you know his own sister doesn’t realise how much he does for her? She even insults the work he does.”

Erwin couldn’t help but bristle at that. He ran a hand through his blond hair. “I just don’t know. Most body slaves I’ve met are sly and cunning, not worthy of anyone’s time. They know their position and will use it to ruin other’s lives.”

“Levi always uses his position to help those he loves. I’ve never seen him do a bad thing to another.”

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe everything was backwards here and he wasn’t sure where anyone stood or what their importance was. He didn’t understand a dominus that cleansed the wounds of his gladiators in order to save money but had no issues killing another for entertainment at a party when he wouldn’t rape a child. What was the point of all this? He felt like one of those philosophers who had reached the end of his life and suddenly realised everything he had written was false.

“You know what I think you should do?” Felix smirked at him, putting one hand on his chin.

“What?”

“Go to him. Apologise. Maybe, if you’re really daring, ask him what his favourite food is. Maybe if you get to know him you’ll realise I’m right.”

“What?” Erwin’s voice cracked.

“It’s not a punishable offense here to speak to the body slave of the dominus,” Felix shrugged.

“I don’t want to apologise,” Erwin stood up, rearranging his loincloth angrily.

Felix cracked a laugh at this, throwing his head back and giving it his all. “You’re a terrible liar. Go and see, then decide what to do later.”

…..

Erwin couldn’t believe he was doing this. If fact, he told himself, he was not going to do this. He had left the blacksmith’s room over an hour ago and was pacing the floors in the ludus. He had been tempted to find Levi and prove he wasn’t remotely interested in the man, but decided against it.

The only question he couldn’t answer was why he was still in this hallway. He’d chosen the route with no Roman guards or slaves – it wasn’t unknown to him. All the gladiatiors knew that this route was the way to and from the kitchens without being caught.

Footsteps sounded up ahead and Erwin ducked behind a pillar. He technically wasn’t doing anything wrong by being there, but he also wasn’t doing anything right. And, without a good explanation, he didn’t want to be seen.

“Mikasa,” the low voice of Levi could be heard and Erwin jumped. “You know why not.”

“No, I don’t,” Mikasa sounded shrill and annoyed. “Why can’t I have fun? I never get to have fun.”

The footsteps stopped in the hallway and Levi sighed with deep exasperation. “I want you to have fun. But please, be interested in a cook or another slave.”

“He is another slave.”

“He’s a gladiator,” Levi hissed. Erwin’s ears practically pricked up at this and he felt himself bristle for the second time that day. What was wrong with being a gladiator?

“So?”

“They don’t… they don’t stay around,” Levi said, quietly this time. If Erwin didn’t know any better, he would say there was sorrow in his tone of voice.

“You mean they die,” Mikasa replied bluntly. “Surprisingly, that was something I already knew.”

“So why chase him?”

“He’s attractive,” Mikasa replied. “And it’s not like I’m searching for a husband. I just want to have my fun before he dies or is sold.”

Erwin heard a foot stamp on the ground. Whoever did it wasn’t wearing any form of footwear. “People aren’t toys for you to play with!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Mikasa replied. She began walking away from him, closer to where Erwin was hiding, and suddenly they were both in his line of vision. “I don’t mean to use other people.”

“I know,” Levi’s brow was furrowed with disappointment and regret. Erwin wanted to reach out and push on the line between his brows to get rid of the stress there. “I just want you to be happy and not have a broken heart at the end of this.”

“I won’t,” she leant over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “As long as we both consent to it, no one has to go away with any problems. He can be happy and so can I.”

She skipped off, her sandaled feet slapping against the floor. So it was Levi who had stomped his foot like a child, Erwin reasoned while looking at the other man’s bare feet.

“Why don’t you wear shoes?” Erwin asked. Levi jumped about a mile high, looking like a mouse that suddenly realised a cat was behind him.

“What?” He squeaked, his eyes wide and breath coming fast. “How long were you there?”

“Long enough,” Erwin answered, coming out from behind the pillar. “You two interrupted my daily stroll. You still haven’t answered my question.”

Levi glanced down the hallway before his eyes came back to rest on him. Well, they travelled down a little before he finally made eye contact. “You stroll around the ludus often? I don’t think you’re allowed.”

“No guards here to stop me,” Erwin took a step closer. So, shoes?”

The other man noticed the step and quickly took one back to keep space between the two of them. “I don’t wear them often because my dominus doesn’t like me to.”

Erwin frowned and crossed his arms. He knew it made his arm muscles look good. And he could tell Levi could see that by the way his eyes widened slightly. “Why?”

Levi made eye contact again, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious about what goes through that man’s head.”

“He wants easy access to me.”

“To your _feet?”_ Oh no.

“No!” Levi took another step back, his eyes darting back down the hallway as if he expected someone to come around at any point and catch them. He was very different from any body slave he had ever met. Most were overly confident and would have been purring in his arms by now. “Not access to my feet. Just… to me.”

“What does that have to do with shoes?”

“He hates me wearing anything and shoes can sometimes take too long to take off.”

Erwin wrinkled his nose. Did this dominus know nothing about sex? “But sometimes the greatest pleasure can be taken in slowly undressing the other person and taking your time in learning their body.”

A faint blush rose on Levi’s cheeks and he looked away. He seemed to take a stuttering breath before he lightly shrugged his shoulders and regained his ability to think coherently. “I do only what is asked of me. If his pleasure is for me to wear no shoes, then that is how I live my life.”

“And what about your life?”

Levi blinked at him. It wasn’t hesitation or confusion that clouded his eyes, instead it was the understanding that he had never been asked something so simple before. “My sister likes you.”

Ah, a quick change of topic. Clever, but noticed. “Does she?”

“Yes,” Levi crossed his arms, mirroring Erwin’s pose. “She is in the kitchens right now if you would like to speak to her.”

“But don’t we just go around dying?”

A dark cloud covered the other man’s eyes for a moment, his hair falling into his eyes as he lowered his head slightly.

“I’m only teasing,” Erwin said, his voice growing soft. Since when did he want to put the other man at ease like this? “I only came here to apologise.”

“I thought you came here for a stroll.” Erwin could hear the smile in Levi’s voice.

“Why not both?”

Levi looked back up at him. “What do you have to apologise for?”

“Making you out to be a terrible person due to your… work. I don’t have a choice whether I fight and die, and you don’t have a choice in being his slave. We’re both in the same situation, just different positions.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, neither saying anything. Finally, Levi broke the waters by nodding slowly. “Thank you. I… I’m sorry too.”

“What for?”

Levi shrugged and looked away again. “Saying what I said back to you.”

He looked so small and fragile standing in front of Erwin. Erwin knew his size, knew his muscles and knew how deadly he looked most of the time. But he felt different in front of Levi – a man with only light muscle mass and was toned specifically to look good for another man. He felt like he should be protecting him and keeping him safe from the rest of the world.

It was a bizarre feeling; not one he had felt before. He didn’t want to feel protective, but here it was like water crashing over his head and suffocating him.

If only he knew how to swim.


End file.
